Triad
by Hamilcar
Summary: An on-going collection of PxHxMJ threesome one-shots. Third story: Changes. Rated M. Mary Jane thinks back and wonders where it all went wrong.
1. Choose to Remain

OOO

The moment she recoiled from her kiss with Harry, all Mary Jane wanted to do was run. Bolt, leave the penthouse and her betrayal behind, pretend that the moment with Harry never happened and kept silent about the entire affair so that Peter would never suspect.

She wanted to run; but the heartbreak in Harry's voice stopped her. Whatever else he was or wasn't to her, he _was_ a friend, and she couldn't leave him so sad and desperate. On some level, she was aware that remaining might exacerbate the problem.

But what else could she do?

"Please don't leave me," he begged, stumbling up to her as she froze in front of the elevator.

The door 'dinged' as it opened, but she stayed where she was, watching it close again before turning to Harry and looking at him with apology and regret.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Just don't leave me!" He pleaded again, seizing her by the shoulders. "If you leave me my father will come back!"

"You father is dead Harry," she sighed, gazing into his wild eyes with pity.

"No! You don't… he's here, right _here_, telling me about you and Peter and how you'll leave me…"

"I think you'd better sit down." Taking his arm, the red-head guided him back into the great room and sat him gently on the couch. Turning away and taking a few steps, she took out her cell phone. "I'm going to call Peter," she told him even as the phone was ringing.

Harry didn't respond but buried his face in his hands.

"Don't leave…" he moaned.

"I'm not leaving, I'm right here Harry," she reassured him in soft tones as the fourth ring jangled in here ear and the sound of the phone picking up could be heard. "Peter!" She blurted. "I need Peter!"

"I'll get him," replied a female voice that MJ knew to be Ursula's.

"MJ?" Came a voice a few seconds later.

"Peter!" She could have cried with relief. "Peter, you have to come over Harry's, right now!"

"Has something happened?" He sounded nervous, almost as if he knew.

"Yes… yes, look, we'll explain, just get over here!"

"Ok, I'm coming." He sounded puzzled and concerned, but not overly panicked.

There was a click and she realized he'd hung up. Snapping the phone shut, Mary Jane sighed and flopped down on the couch. Peter was coming over and he would find out what she had done, she realized. She and Harry would have to explain themselves and who knew _what_ was going to come of that, to say nothing of Harry's frightened babblings about his father.

Sitting across from Harry, she looked at the youthful millionaire warily. He was still looking down into his hands, his body shaking as if he were trying to keep something down. Every empty sentiment that came to mind died in her throat – what could she tell him? She didn't know if it would be alright; she didn't even realize the full extent of what _wasn't_ right.

All she could do, she and Harry both, was wait for Peter – and she doubted that even his arrival would help. After all, wasn't that why she had come to Harry? Because Peter, hero that he was, could be so emotionally blind? Nevertheless, they sat in silence, teetering on the edge and waiting for the one who could pull them back or send them toppling over.

OOO 

When Peter reached the apartment and was buzzed in by Bernard, a room awash in silence confronted him the moment he entered. Mary Jane glanced at him then looked away, while lifted his head up from his hands and fixed him with a penetrating stare. Peter swore he could feel the ground crumbling beneath him and his heart leaping into his throat. Harry remembered; Harry remembered and might do anything at any time.

"Harry?" Peter took a small step towards his friend.

"You took him," Harry whispered, his voice strained. "You took him and you're going to take her…"

"I kissed Harry!" Mary Jane broke in, frantic. Peter looked at her with the hurt and confusion she expected, so she continued pushing forward, the flow of words tripping her tongue up. "I lost my job but you were so… so… well, I couldn't tell you but I had to talk to somebody. And I went to Harry and we didn't mean for anything to happen and I didn't want or intend to hurt you but we kissed. Please, Peter, don't be angry; it was what I needed. It… it…" She wanted to finish her sentence with 'didn't mean anything,' but Harry was gazing at her in hurt disbelief.

Shifting his gaze from one to the other, Peter nodded slowly. "I see." The comment was detached and impassive, said to fill the void of silence rather than signifying any true understanding. "You couldn't have told me?" He asked her quietly, only a hint of reproach represent.

"I wanted to Peter!" She fidgeted with her hands. "But you were… you can be so… I couldn't! You were so caught up in your business and oblivious and it was just… can't you see why I couldn't?"

"But you could tell Harry," he replied flatly.

"You aren't there for people!" Harry broke in, rising suddenly and going over to confront Peter. "You weren't there for me, for her, didn't tell me anything! You _killed_ my father!" Agitated, he stepped backwards and gestured towards Mary Jane. "And then you take her from me when you can't even be there for her?!"

"I didn't kill your father!" Peter pleaded, afraid to move in case it angered him further, particularly with MJ present.

"Harry…" MJ whispered. "I don't want to mislead you…"

He, however, kept his attention focused on Peter. "You could have explained! You never tell me anything! You just lie and keep quiet – and _he's_ always there wanting revenge and why shouldn't I take it?" Harry sucked in a deep breath. "You leave me alone when it counts the most and give me no reasons, no explanations when I need them so badly. Did you think I wouldn't remember? Was that it? Was that what you were counting on? That you would never have to explain yourself?" He looked over at Mary Jane. "And if you didn't want to mislead me, you shouldn't have come, shouldn't have kissed me!" His accusation rang bitterly.

Turning away from both of them, Mary Jane burst into tears, wetting the arms of the couch with her sobbing. Harry clenched his jaw and looked back at Peter, angry and contemptuous.

"I'm sorry," Peter muttered. "And that's not enough, I know. And I will explain, I'll try if you'll let me. But do you really want to listen to your father?"

"Who else should I heed?" He snapped. "He's right; you'll leave me alone, always taking people from me…"

"That's a lie, Harry. That's a lie and you know it," Peter told him, but without any accusation or anger in his voice. "I have never wanted to take anybody from you and I don't want to leave you alone. All that I've done, as wrong as it has gone, was done with good intentions."

"The road to hell…"

"You don't have to tell me, Harry!" He took a shaky breath. "I know. I know, I've made mistakes. But I was trying to keep you as my friend, do what I had to do without hurting you." Harry scoffed. "Believe me – I would never do anything like that to your father or you on purpose. It just… everything went wrong. I've made mistakes; I won't say that I haven't." He paused, nervous at anything that might sound like an accusation. "But I think it's fair to say we _all_ have."

Instead of lashing out, Harry slumped and looked at Peter desperately. "I don't want to be alone Peter. He's always demanding, wants control, wants more, but he's _there_. And I don't want to be alone," he repeated.

"I wouldn't leave you alone." Peter walked up to him and touched Harry's should. "As long as you don't push me away. OK? We'll get… we'll get all of this sorted," he replied, though he wasn't sure how. "And you won't be alone."

Harry looked into Peter's eyes, as if he were searching for something in their depths. He seemed afraid and nervous, yet it wasn't the same as before. Then, before Peter's spider-sense could even twitch, Harry's arms slid behind Peter's back and pulled Peter's body against his own, drawing him into a kiss.

Peter nearly jumped from the sudden sensation, but Harry's arms held him tightly and refused to let him break away. The mouth on his own was warm, not entirely unpleasant, and though Peter could taste traces of Mary Jane's lip balm on Harry's lips the flavor didn't both him as much as he might have assumed it would.

Judging from the gasp he heard off to his left, Mary Jane did not feel the same.

"Harry!" She gave a strangled cry. "Harry, what are you doing to Peter?"

Peter broke away and looked over at her; she looked moderately horrified while Harry had a look that fluctuated between hope and trepidation. Peter's body was racing up at down with sudden pleasure at the sensation of Harry touching him. When he saw MJ's mortification, however, his heart stopped, sensing he had come to a moment of crisis.

Stepping away, ever so slightly, from Harry and towards Mary Jane, Peter held out his hand. He could barely believe what he was about to suggest, but it broke his heart to alienate either and he could see only one way out of it. Had Harry not made the first move, he should never have suggested it. But emotion ran like a current between him and Harry and him and Mary Jane and Harry and Mary Jane and all three until it seemed like the only way that made sense.

"We've all been selfish," he intoned again. "But he was there for you in ways I couldn't be. You said so yourself. It would not be a betrayal to kiss and kiss alike, if…" He let himself trail off.

Then Harry stepped up to his side and held out his hand as well.

"We're all we have," he pointed out quietly. "We shouldn't leave each other alone."

Mary Jane looked at their hands, considering. Then she took them both, one in her left and the other in her right, and let them lead her away from the mask-filled great room, down the hall to Harry's room, dark and quiet as a sanctuary.

OOO

When Harry first woke up, he was disoriented and nearly tumbled off of the edge of his bed. When he was alone, he was used to sleeping in the center of the mattress. Not only was he off to one side, but he moved and found the mattress to be surprisingly occupied.

By two people.

He bolted upright and looked over to see Mary Jane directly on his right, hidden beneath the covers, and Peter off to her other side, bare to the waist with the blanket wrapped around his legs. His mind racing, Harry still hadn't figured out what to do when Peter's eyes opened and looked up at him, smiling.

"Uh… morning, Pete?" He managed. "Shit!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry about this! Look, I'll go get dressed and leave you and MJ alone…"

"Shhh." Peter leaned over MJ and clamped a hand on Harry's mouth. The young Osborn fell silent and stared at him, afraid to even move. "There's nothing to be sorry about," Peter grinned. "You were great. And weren't you the one saying you didn't want to be alone?"

"Peter… I…" He looked panicked, then felt his body relax. It was warm, the morning light was soft and his best friends were there, with him in every sense of the word. Mary Jane with her fierce beauty and fiery personality, and Peter, cute but demur, quiet and shy – he'd wanted them both, in different ways, for a very long time. They hadn't said no, not this time, they wanted him, loved him, cared about him, weren't going to use him. He'd begged them to stay – _and they had_.

It seemed too much like a dream, so he reached over and kissed Peter to experience its reality. When they parted, Peter cast his eyes down towards Mary Jane, still breathing slowly on the bed.

"We should wake her up," he whispered.

Harry nodded an agreement, then slid down and began pressing his lips to her back. Peter kissed her chin, neck, forehead, chest, working the covers down from beneath her chin as he did. Harry bit her earlobe, Peter nipped at her jaw and her eyes fluttered open.

"You two," she smirked, "should go and make breakfast. Then you would have to bite me."

"But you taste much better," Harry teased, giving Peter a wink. The boy blushed in return.

Mary Jane laughed and sat up, leaning against the headboard with Harry and Peter on either side. Taking a deep breath, she yawned then sighed.

"You realize this whole thing is about to get a lot more complicated?" She looked at them semi-seriously.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied, reaching around her back to muss Peter's hair. "I think it's easier when one doesn't have to choose."

"What do you think, Peter?"

"I think I have class I need to go to if I don't want to fail," he laughed, throwing the covers off.

"A true romantic," Harry rolled his eyes. "Just don't stay away too long – we still have a lot to talk about you know." He looked at Peter with gravity, though not anger. "You do still owe me an explanation."

"I know, I know. Over dinner, maybe?"

Harry and MJ nodded. "Sounds good to me," MJ added.

""It's a date then," Peter grinned as he pulled on his pants. "I'll see you guys tonight!" He dashed out of the room and they heard the clatter of the bay windows shortly after.

Still lightly clad, Mary Jane looked up at Harry. "So, how about breakfast?"

"More omelets?" Harry smirked.

MJ laughed. "Whatever you like," she replied as he got up to shower. "Tell me though, Harry – I know about Peter, but when did _you_ get so built?"

"I've been working out," he winked as he stepped inside and turned on the water. "And by working out I mean cheating by using my father's formula!"

"Harry!" She gasped.

He leaned out of the doorway and gave her a grin. "Relax! That's a good thing. That way, whenever you have kids, you know they'll have powers of some sort!" He ducked back into the shower and Mary Jane shook her head, rolling over to get an extra fifteen minutes.

She had been wary; but Harry was better now with Norman gone, a balance to Peter in so many ways. Her boys, she thought to herself and smiled at the idea.

Her boys, for now and for always.

OOO

A/N: Just a little fluffy AU threesome in time for the holidays. Might stay as a one-shot. Might get a future 'mini-sequel' if I feel up to it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed and have a happy 2008. :)


	2. Sensory

_OOO_

Sight

_OOO_

At first Peter watches Mary Jane alone, out of his window. Afraid she might see him some night, he steals furtive glances, watches her silhouette undress and fills in the details himself. When her curtains are open, he blushes and hides under the covers but cannot completely look away. She mesmerizes him, this picture framed by his window each night.

Harry eventually notices, of course, because Harry comes over more often than Peter expects of a rich boy who has a room of his own big enough to fit in Peter's kitchen _and _living room, and when he comes over Harry observes more closely than anyone thinks he does. So he visits and he stays and he sees Peter seeing Mary Jane – and he smiles. He smiles then he leans against the window sill and stares provocatively at the girl and masturbates without hesitation or shame. It's only so long before Peter can help joining in because Harry teases and tugs and gives him his sheepish 'who me' grins that lights up the room and lets Peter see him, young and lithe and brazen.

Peter panics sometimes, worrying about his aunt or uncle walking in and seeing, but Harry laughs away these concerns as Peter hurriedly drapes blankets over him. He frets over Mary Jane as well, would die if he knew she saw him, but some part of him knows that she must. Every so often she glances over; every so often she teases and hides just out of sight.

She knows they watch, watches them watching and loves to know they watch.

And when they go to school she sits with Flash but glances at Harry who glances at Peter who glances at Mary Jane and back and forth. These gazes make Peter shift uncomfortably but he cannot look away, cannot stop looking and, in his most private moments, knows that he wants somebody to look, to see him.

They see him and he sees them and the ballet of glances and glimpses goes on until Peter thinks it interminable and longs for more…

Then everything changes.

_OOO_

Smell

_OOO_

The city smells drastically different from the hydrangea-lined suburb that Peter grew up in. Pollution settles like a cloud over the city and Peter's only escape from the ever-present stench is when he is swinging, far above the smog and pollution. High above it all, the air smells fresh and clean and simple, something pure and uncontaminated.

When he comes back down to earth, Peter finds himself in rooms awash with scents unlike those of his aunt's home. The smells of food cooking are replaced with the scent of fast food and delivery, the decay of remnants left out too long and dirty clothing piled up and left unwashed. It is teenaged and college and thoroughly undomestic.

The smell of Harry is the same, however. Almost. His cologned presence still lingers in each room, as it did when they were at home and he visited often enough for the odor to remain after he'd left. This time, however, his scent is adulterated, tainted by something that Peter has smelled in his dreams and fantasies over and over again.

Harry comes home smelling faintly of the only perfume Mary Jane ever uses and it suffocates Peter each time he does. When he sees Mary Jane, she smells of the restaurant in which she works. But, underneath all of that, he knows there are traces of Harry. However slight, they have left their marks on one another.

He wears neither cologne nor perfume. All he has is the sweat that comes with being Spider-Man and that is something he hides and washes away, shares with no one.

_OOO_

Taste

_OOO_

When Spider-Man kisses Mary Jane for the first time, all Peter can initially taste is rainwater. It runs down her face and his, into their mouths and mingles with their saliva. They remain locked in the kiss and the sullied rain gives way to the warmth and breath of Mary Jane's mouth. Peter finds that Harry was right - strawberries.

If he holds on long enough, will the layers peel back, will he taste Harry too?

Their kiss ends before he can wonder at his vicarious desires. When he returns to the apartment, he stifles the thoughts but they cannot help but surface. Will Harry know when next he kisses MJ that someone else was there? Would he recognize that it was Peter if he had any reference? Would he like how Peter tasted?

What did Harry taste like?

Peter thinks himself subtle and unassuming but his hunger shows through. Harry guides their conversations with hypotheticals – what would it be like to kiss a person upside-down? Didn't Peter think that Mary Jane should be satisfied with him and not go hero-seeking? Wasn't he any good or at least good enough?

Harry, Peter finds out, tastes of burgers and boxed sugary cereals, the kind with fake marshmallows and crusted frosting, everything cheap and childish which his father never bought or wanted to see him eat. Somewhere too he tastes of wines whose names Peter cannot pronounce and liquor that he cannot afford. Harry carries a hint of youth gone wrong and childhood missed, a hint of decadence which he can never quite eliminate and, as Peter expects, a hint of Mary Jane.

What Peter discovers but did not expect is that Harry is hungry too.

_OOO_

Sound

_OOO_

Over the beep of his aunt's machines, Peter hears himself speaking to Mary Jane of what Spider-Man 'told' him about her. She gives him little noises of encouragement and Peter feels like he could go on forever, pouring out his compliments, his feelings and barely remembering to substitute the 'Spider-Man' for the 'I.' Given the chance to finally, if in a roundabout way, say everything he has held down feel marvelous.

Then from the door Peter hears a little strangled noise of surprise and the wonderful crumbles. Harry hears them, sees them and clearly feels like he has been betrayed, standing there with a bunch of flowers and a hurt expression.

"Nonononono." Peter starts for the door, a chant pouring out of his lips. But with a slam, Harry disappears and yanks himself out of Peter's grasp when he finally manages to catch up in the hallway. The ding of the elevator that Harry gets on, glaring all the while, is disturbingly final, as if Harry is leaving to attend an execution.

Backtracking, Peter pokes his head in the door, glances at his still sleeping aunt and the bewildered Mary Jane.

"Aren't you coming?"

His disbelief and verging disappointment are such that suddenly Mary Jane can't imagine doing anything else.

Elsewhere, Harry assures his father that he was 'right about everything.'

_OOO_

Touch

_OOO_

Peter's words have evaporated and left him though he doesn't think words ever meant much to Harry anyway; MJ perhaps, but not Harry. He finds Harry in the cavernous house of his father and knows that Harry seeks – has been seeking – closeness, approval, affection; but all from sources from which he cannot obtain it. Worried about hurting his best friend, about making things worse, Peter finds him sitting in the young Osborn's room and drapes himself over him. Mary Jane enters a moment later and takes his hand but Harry still doesn't move.

Closer, Peter thinks. He massages at first, then pets and Harry gives Peter a 'what-are-you-doing' look that vacillates between fear and amusement. Then Mary Jane laughs so that Harry knows his game is up but that it's somehow fine and alright. Still closer, until one of them realizes that there are too many layers of fabric in the way to be really, truly close.

"We'd, uh… we'd be warmer under the blankets you know," Harry suggests in a voice too surprised to carry any hint of suggestiveness. Their bodies manifest the effects of the cold, so Peter nods as if this makes perfect, innocent sense.

"Sure. Sure."

Pink tipped breasts get offered up as pillows and heat spreads over every surface of flesh. With Peter pressing into his neck and Mary Jane somehow managing to stroke both their thighs, Harry begins to laugh. Everything around him is warm and living and willing and he thinks he must be _feeling_ for the first time because nothing has ever felt so absolutely safe and right. Then Peter shifts, needing to do something to release the crazed energy and emotion that began building when he pressed against the two people he loves most. He moves and then they each move in tandem and find what they were looking for all along.

Across town, all Norman Osborn finds is an empty apartment. He takes out his frustrations on a crowd of people in Times Square and – despite his bombs and his armor and his fury – he is taken out.

_OOO_

_OOO_

_OOO_

When the police bring the body of his father home, still clad in his monstrous trappings, Harry tries to feel something for him, something of the grief or rage or hurt or anguish he thinks he probably should be feeling. Peter approaches him first and then Mary Jane; they tug and pull him back to the darkness and the warmth of the room they came from and he follows, eager.

The dawn will come to face their problems; but for this night they slip back into the comfortable pleasure of sense and experience.

_OOO_

_OOO_

_OOO_


	3. Changes M

OOO

Peter and Harry have changed, Mary Jane thinks as she rolls over in the massive mahogany bed. They've changed more than she could have ever foreseen, spiraling downward and pulling her with them.

To her left, Peter is lying with his hand draped across her thigh, his fingers light brushing the curve of soft flesh. She hears his light breathing and tries not to look over at him, afraid to see the half-unbuttoned black dress shirt that isn't _really_ a shirt.

Off to the other side is Harry, who is no better; his eyes dance with faint green sparks when they're open and his smile contorts in ways that make Mary Jane shiver. He, more than Peter, knows how much she wants to look away and forces her to stare.

They used to be friends, the three of them, she reflects as she tries to get back to sleep. Friends and maybe more, but never like this, and she wonders where it all went wrong.

OOO

_A shelf of curios smashed against the floor after Peter slammed into it. Shaking off his dizziness, he glowered at Harry then rammed into him. They grabbed whatever objects they could find, each bludgeoning the other with paper weights and vases and anything within reach, coming at each other with the intent to kill._

_Then Harry stumbled backwards and pulled Peter down with him with a violent yank. Their lips smashed together and they bit and snapped violently, suddenly coming in a very different way._

_"So that's how you like it?" Peter taunted Harry and slapped the youthful billionaire in the face._

_Harry's expression was infuriated and he grabbed Peter's throat, smashing him against the wall, tearing at Peter's clothing and yanking at his belt._

_"I'll show you how I like it, you bastard," he growled._

_"Been waiting for this a while, have we?" Peter wrestled out of Harry's grasp and threw the other to the floor, webbing his wrists to the carpet before ripping Harry's shirt open._

_Harry kicked him in the back and tugged hard enough that the webbing ripped free, leaving his wrists red and bloody. Curling his hand into a claw, he raked it across Peter's face then pushed him down and knelt on his chest._

_"Too long," he grinned, flushed, blood racing._

_Before long, there came an explosion. _

OOO

In the mornings, she is expected to make breakfast. Which, in a way, makes sense; Peter has classes early and Harry has to be in at the office, whereas the restaurant where she works doesn't even open until after four in the afternoon. Besides, she enjoys cooking, especially in a kitchen as nice as Harry's.

It's not about the task itself as much as it is about the situation. It isn't a courtesy she does for them, it's not meant to be fun like the time she cooked with Harry, and it isn't a request they ask of her. She knows she is being put in her place, having her role defined for her by the two men whole smile daggers at her while she hands them their morning coffee.

She resents it very deeply but she's too frightened to do anything about it. As she rinses off the dishes while they eat and head for the door, she wonders what she ever did to deserve this.

OOO

_  
"I'm still going to kill you, you know that right?" Harry told Peter as they stared up at the ceiling, both mostly naked, totally exhausted and tingling from head to toe, each exhaling breath laced with liquor. "My father..."_

_"Oh, fuck your father," Peter snapped. "I'm sick of hearing you go on about him. He died. It was his own damn fault. End of story." He leaned over and bit Harry's ear sharply, letting the tang of blood spread on his tongue. "And as for killing me, well, I think I just proved who'd win in a fight."_

_"What!" Harry scoffed. "Please. I let you off the hook because.. because..."_

_"Because I make you so horny that you can't even have a proper fight without whipping it out?" Peter smirked and squeezed as Harry blushed._

_"No!"_

_"Yes," he insisted, amused. "And if you kill me, then who are you going to have hot, angry sex with? Flint Marko?"_

_Harry glared. "You're nasty! That guy's, what, fifty? Not to mention - sand. Everywhere. That's just annoying." He looked over to his father's portrait. "You know what? You're right. Fuck you, Dad!" He shouted at the picture, slurring every few words. "Shut the hell up and leave me alone - you want vengeance, well that's too bad. Shoulda killed Pete yourself in the first place." He staggered up to the portrait and ripped a huge chunk of the canvas off before he turned and stumbled over towards Peter, inebriated and roughly apologetic. "Sorry about that killing you shit." He straddled Peter with a wink._

_"Friends then?" Peter reached up and teased a nipple._

_"Hell yes, buddy. With benefits." He glanced at Peter and grinned, dipping down to suck his throat._

_"Thought so."_

_"This isn't just about my dad though, you know." He frowned as he pressed in. "MJ. She kissed me then bolted like I was some kind of creep coming on to her, left me alone..."_

_"What a bitch." Peter's hands slid behind Harry's back while the symbiote snaked around his crotch.  
_

_"Thinks she can have it both ways." Harry's thrusting grew rougher and he dug into Peter's shoulders with his nails, as if he could imagine the offending female beneath him._

_"I'm tired of fighting over her," Peter admitted after Harry finished and they had settled back down, entwined on the floor, the symbiote still partially attached to Harry in affectionate little wisps. "But I still want her - no offense."_

_"None taken. Hell, so do I." A thought occurred to them at the same time and they smiled at each other._

_"You know, she did start this," Peter concurred and his symbiote moved in agreement. "Half of it's her fault. Deserves a little punishment, don't you think?" He suggested casually._

_"Definitely," Harry concurred, his eyes shining with anger and anticipation. _

OOO

When she sings about love now, Mary Jane can't seem to convey any feeling whatsoever. She knows that if she remains calm and emotionless, then at least she will get through the song; if not, the words will sink in and make her feel all the wrong emotions, cause her to break down. Acting might be her dream, but she's not _that _good at it yet, not enough to block out the nightmare her life has become when reminded daily of her broken dreams.

The manager asks her what's wrong and she makes an excuse about being tired - not that it's entirely untrue. The whole truth, however, is something she can't tell anybody. Who would believe her if she did? Besides, she reflects miserably as she steps up to the microphone, as much as they have changed and as terrible as everything has become, she doesn't want to hurt the men she used to care about so much, considering how her own mistakes played such a part in their mutual downfalls.

The band starts up and she thinks back to her reluctance to let Peter into her life, the desperation she felt when she kissed Harry, and she wonders if she doesn't deserve this after all.

OOO

_They waited for her at the stage door, both a little drunk and very angry. When she stepped out, Mary Jane saw the look on Peter's face first and glanced from one to the other, realizing part of what must have happened._

_"Harry told you?" She whispered, fearful and confused, remembering the feel of Harry's hand against her throat, slamming her into her apartment wall. Peter mustn't know yet, must not have realized..._

_"Yeah," Peter snapped, "He told me. Everything."_

_His eyes were dark and cold and MJ's heart sank inside her chest. Something was wrong, very wrong._

_"Everything?" She whispered._

_"He knows," Harry responds, his face impassive. "But he accepts me for who I am."_

_"He was trying to kill you!" She tells Peter, half hysterical. "He said he'd kill you if I didn't break up with you!"_

_"And whose fault is that?" Peter stepped closer. "Maybe you shouldn't have been such a tease. Maybe you should have opened up so our relationship would have be stronger in the first place and you wouldn't be so eager to find an excuse to break up."_

_"I wasn't trying to..."_

_"Oh please," Harry interrupted. "You came to me. You know you did. Whining about how Peter couldn't understand and asking me not to tell him about your problems with your play. Not that he should be surprised - you never were that good."_

_It amused Peter to note that even in the midst of a clearly threatening situation, MJ could still manage to look hurt about a slight to her supposed acting skills. Advancing on her and closing the distance between them, he grabbed her wrist firmly. She gasped and tried to twist away but couldn't break his hold._

_"Now you'll come with us. Quietly," he ordered in a stern tone._

_"Or...?" She winced and faintly struggled._

_"Or you won't like the alternative." Harry smirked. "That we promise you."_

_Stepping out of the alley and acting deceptively polite, they ushered her into Harry's car waiting for them at the curb. Peter got into the back to watch her while Harry drove. The moment the doors were closed and the heavily tinted windows hid their actions, Peter webbed her to the seat._

_"Just in case," he told her. "You are fond of running away from things after all - Harry and me in particular."_

_"Don't do this," she pleaded. "Please don't. You're my friends, what's wrong with you?"_

_"Oh, we're your friends alright," Harry replied sarcastically from the front. "And when we get back you'll see just how friendly we three can be."_

_"You see, MJ, we're tired of getting played, tired of you going back and forth between us, jerking us around." Peter looked out of the window for a moment, then back at her. "You wanted us both? You got us. Whether you like it or not."_

_"What?!" She shouted as their meaning sank in._

_"Don't act so surprised." Harry made a sharp turn onto his street. "You were the one who started it, always wanting more, wanting what you couldn't have._

_"This time, it's our turn - and we want everything." _

OOO

While she sings her final number for the evening, Mary Jane notices the door open out of the corner of her eye and sees Harry enter. He gives her a smile, cheerful and bright, and she almost forgets to be frightened. Sometimes he comes and watches; he never interacts with her but she swears he follows her, drops in to remind her that he knows where she is and what she does, the sword of Damocles always hanging over her head.

There are nights when he and Peter behave like perfect gentlemen, holding doors and whispering sweet words and touching her gently. Much as it galls her to admit it, no one has ever kissed her like Peter, even if those same lips kiss Harry; and nobody has ever made love to her like Harry, even if he turns over from her and fucks Peter. Some night, the pleasure is ecstatic and the mood forgiving, and for a moment everything is wonderful.

Those nights are rare; most times she ends up slapped and sore, beaten and belittled. As she leaves the club, looking around to see if Harry is still there, she gets on the subway and wonders what kind of night this will be.

OOO

_"Kiss him!" Peter demanded, grabbing her by the hair and shoving her face into Harry's. "You were so eager to before. What's the matter?"_

_Tears streamed down her fact but neither showed any sympathy._

_"Let her go, Pete. She's not going to give anything up." Harry produced a dagger from behind his back and smiled, teeth bared in a too-white grin. "We have to take it."_

_"NO!" She screamed._

_"Shut her up, wouldja buddy?" Harry asked with a sigh that spoke of impatience and annoyance._

_"No problem."_

_Peter webbed her mouth shut while Harry unbuttoned her shirt, bit by bit. Once it was removed he took the dagger and drew it across her breast. Frightened, she tried to be still and braced against the prick of pain, ready for a deeper cut. A thin line of blood spurted out of the wound and Harry nodded towards Peter._

_Swabbing with his finger, he wetted the tip with blood then licked it off. Then, as if everything were in fast forward, they both fell upon her, stripping her of her clothing and throwing her onto Harry's bed._

_They penetrated her, one after the other, both at the same time, clawing at her, slapping her, bruising her, doing the same to one another. When they were finally sated, they kept her between them, enfolding her and clutching her not in a cuddling fashion, but in desperation, as if they'd no other way to keep here there._

_Mary Jane tried to curl up as much as she could, sore and wounded. She didn't understand it, she wanted to run away and cry and forget the night ever happen - forget the last few weeks ever happened! Nothing made sense and she felt as though she'd been broken into a thousand, million pieces._

_Beside her, the symbiote and and goblin radiated a feral sense of satisfaction. _

OOO

The days move forward, slowly, one by one. Spider-man becomes more violent, but in a city where crime is rampant there seems to be tacit approval. Harry Osborn's business practices become ruthless, but nobody expects anything less from a businessman; he ought to be savvy and practically minded. Every outward appearance is maintained or explained.

Except Mary Jane knows this isn't the case. Mary Jane knows how bad things are and how far they've fallen and how impossible the situation is to fix. She wants a hero, now more than ever, but there are none to be found. She wonders when, _if, _it will ever end.

Pressed between the bodies of two men she once loved, the remnants of what they once were and might have been but now cannot be, the night whispers the answer.

_Never. _

OOO

Been sitting on this one for quite a while. It's a touch on the melodramatic side, maybe, but I thought I might as well post it as not. Hope you enjoyed - and for those interested, the next chapter will be lighter. ;)


End file.
